


crush culture makes me wanna spill my guts out

by matsuhanasss



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Coffee Shops, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Break Up, Roommates, Slow Burn, kageyama is in here for a Split Seconds, technically not beta'd, theyre important trust me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:01:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26984053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matsuhanasss/pseuds/matsuhanasss
Summary: kenma kozume thought a lot of things were stupid
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Past Kozume Kenma/Hinata Shoyo
Comments: 12
Kudos: 172





	crush culture makes me wanna spill my guts out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ellixtpage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellixtpage/gifts).



> hiiiiii
> 
> how are yallll? i had soo much fun writing this fic !! i really enjoy it and i hope you all will too.
> 
> title from crush culture by conan gray. you can listen to that [here.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GzYSzV7Mltc)
> 
> the playlist i made to write to — you can listen [here.](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0r87OavXW2Y4OMycr0eP3n?si=qkUzfk6YSnmhIEHarm_Vjg)

Kenma Kozume thought a lot of things were stupid.

Shoyo takes a bite out of his sandwich, while Kenma stares at his sandwich for a few minutes, gives a slow blink, and looks back up at him. 

“You're moving out?” Kenma asks. Shoyo raises an eyebrow.

“I thought we talked about this already?” he says, chewing thoughtfully.

“No, we haven’t,” Kenma says, curling his hands around his coffee cup. They had not in fact talked about it or the fact he most _definitely_ could not pay for rent on his own. He felt like he was going to pass out in the middle of the cafe they were in. 

“Huh. Must’ve slipped my mind.”

“This is a _really_ important thing to have slipped your mind, Shoyo,” Kenma says. There’s a slight bit of agitation to his voice and Shoyo’s expression screws up.

“I’m sure there’s someone who’s looking for a roommate,” Shoyo says. But that’s not the only thing Kenma is worried about. The thought of having to live with someone he doesn’t know makes his skin crawl. Kenma huffs and pokes at his sandwich.

“If you’re not going to eat that, I will,” Shoyo says. Kenma slides it over to him, where he promptly chokes down the rest of his first sandwich. Kenma thinks if he eats anything he might vomit. “But I mean, I thought I’d move out eventually.”

And, well, Kenma doesn’t really have anything to say to that. Their breakup wasn’t messy and they were still friends, but living in the same apartment was… weird. Kenma felt like he was tiptoeing around everywhere in the place he once called home. So, yeah, at one point, one of them was going to have to move out.

“When are you moving out?” Kenma clears his throat, lifting the coffee cup to his lips.

“End of the month,” Shoyo says. It takes everything in Kenma not to choke on his coffee. That was a very small time frame for Kenma to find a roommate. Kenma feels the nausea in his stomach intensify and contemplates on dry heaving in the cafe’s toilet for a minute or two. He takes a proper sip of his coffee and sighs.

“Have you already found a roommate?” Kenma asks. Shoyo didn’t have the fall back financial support of streaming like Kenma did, so even if Kenma couldn’t afford groceries he could pay rent. Shoyo was another story. Shoyo would need at least one other roommate to be able to afford rent. The thought that he’s already moved on doesn’t really _bother_ Kenma, per se, but there’s something that coils tight around his stomach and doesn’t release. He feels like he’s about to cry for the first time since they broke up. He hadn’t even cried then. 

“Uh, yeah,” Shoyo says. “We’re on the volleyball team together. He needed a roommate. Clearly.” 

“Oh,” Kenma says. And he feels his face flush at the tell tale sign he’s going to cry, so he stands wordlessly and makes his way to the bathroom.

It’s been a long time since Kenma’s sobbed in a public restroom. 

He tries to keep them as quiet as he can, which he’s tragically a master at. He gasps into the sleeve of his sweatshirt and tries desperately to stop the tears spilling from his eyes. When he finally pulls himself together, he takes a shaky breath in and looks at himself in the mirror. It’s clear he’s been crying and there’s a likely chance that Shoyo will say something about it. He splashes cold water on his face and stands still for a minute, shoving his hands in his hoodie pocket. He sniffles as he walks back over to where he’s sitting with Shoyo and neither of them say anything for a while.

“So you’ll be out by the end of the month?” Kenma asks. He tries not to acknowledge that his voice is shaky.

“Yeah,” Shoyo says, pulling at the strings of his sweatshirt.

“I’m gonna get ready for class,” Kenma says, sliding out of his seat and picking up his coffee. Shoyo opens his mouth to say something, but his face falls and he doesn’t say anything. 

Shoyo spends less time at the apartment. 

It’s not _different_ because Shoyo was barely ever in the apartment, but now it feels purposeful. Maybe that’s because Shoyo knew home was Kenma’s place—the place where he was most comfortable and felt safest. When Kenma thinks too hard about the fact that he’ll have to be sharing his place—his safe space—with a stranger soon, he feels the anxiety creep back into his lungs and he begins to tap his fingers on his thigh. His viewers have taken a notice to how he seems off, which Kenma thinks is the weirdest part about the entire thing. 

Kenma pads out of his bedroom, feet soft on the floor. He hears Shoyo talking on the phone somewhere in the kitchen and he huffs slightly. He doesn’t really want to walk into the kitchen with Shoyo there, but he’s starving so he gets over it and makes his way in there. They meet eyes for a moment; Shoyo continues his phone conversation and Kenma throws the hood of his hoodie up and gets to making something fast and easy. Shoyo ends his phone call with a soft ‘ _Bye_ ’ and Kenma can feel his eyes on him.

“I know someone who needs a roommate.” It’s like Shoyo knew he hadn't been looking for a new roommate. Kenma shivers.

“Mhm,” he sums, biting into his bagel. 

“You’re supposed to meet him at the cafe down the street on Thursday after your design class,” Shoyo says, simple as that. He states it as a fact rather than an option. Kenma chokes on his bagel and coughs.

“So I don’t get a say in this?”

“I know you’re not looking for a new roommate. And I kind of don’t want you to starve to death,” Shoyo says. Kenma narrows his eyes, takes another bite of his bagel, and turns on his heel to head back to his room. It’s stupid how well he and Shoyo know each other. Shoyo knows there’s a little scar on the back of Kenma’s head from where he had busted his head open on the corner of the table when he was seven. Shoyo and his parents are the only people who know about it. There are a lot of things that only Shoyo knows about—the way Kenma wants his nose pierced, the way he wants his ears pierced, how to calm Kenma down. He angrily chomps down on his bagel again.

Thursday after Kenma’s design class, he contemplates ditching the person waiting for him in the cafe. Kenma throws his hood on and pulls at the strings, groans, and then pulls it back down. Instead of ditching, like a bad person, he goes to the cafe, like a good person. Shoyo had sent him a picture of the boy he was looking for; black hair, bedhead, and _tall_ , Kenma had gathered. He’d looked a little more mischievous than Kenma had really appreciated, which didn’t ease his nerves, but Shoyo promised he was a good guy. 

“Kuroo?” Kenma calls softly, pulling the chair in front of him out. Kuroo startles, looking up at Kenma.

“Ah, you must be Kenma!” he says. Kenma nods, cringing at the volume of his voice. It’s not loud enough to be _over_ an indoor voice, but it’s loud enough to draw the attention of a few customers. 

“So… You’re looking for a roommate?” Kenma asks, voice awkward and tight. His fingers are drumming against his thigh.

“Yeah,” he huffs a laugh. “I’m tired of living in the dorms and I can’t, uh, well, I can’t afford an apartment on my own.”

Kenma snorts. “Most people can’t.”

“You have a point there,” Kuroo says. Kenma hums and takes a sip of his coffee, giving his hands something to do other than restlessly drum on his thighs. They stay silent for a long time. Somewhere along the line, the tight twist in Kenma’s gut lessens in some way. The person in front of him may be _loud_ and his eyes may have that glint in them that scream trouble, but Kenma is desperate. He’s desperate for a roommate and no matter how much he hates the thought of someone new invading his space, he can’t afford groceries _and_ rent all on his own. 

“So, what do you say?” Kuroo asks.

“You’ll do.”

As promised, Shoyo moves out at the end of the month and Kuroo moves in at the beginning. Kenma spends most of his time in his room, as always, but now he feels cautious around his own apartment again. He’d wanted that feeling to go _away_ once Shoyo had moved out, but alas. What Kenma is not expecting one day is to wake up to the smell of breakfast cooking. It’s before twelve pm on one of the days he doesn’t have classes, so maybe he wants to commit homicide. Just a little. But he can’t find it in himself to roll out of bed and get angry, so instead he falls back asleep.

He wakes up to a soft knock on his bedroom door. 

“What?” he asks. It probably comes out a little harsher than expected. 

“There’s breakfast in the kitchen if you want any. I have to get to practice, so I’ll be back later,” Kuroo says. Kenma makes some strangled noise of acknowledgment and pulls his pillow back over his head. His door closes and when he can’t fall back asleep, he makes his way to the kitchen where there’s a plate of food for him. It’s more brunch than anything, but Kenma still eats the food he’s been given. 

That’s how they live for a month—in silent, fleeting moments. Kenma is still trying to get used to the invasion of his space and Kuroo seems to be getting used to the apartment and Kenma’s reclusive tendencies. He cooks breakfast and dinner, which Kenma takes to his room to camp out and study (mostly to hide, though). The weird limbo they’ve made is broken on Friday afternoon, when Kenma is in the living room half-asleep and watching shitty reality TV. Kuroo leans over the couch and pokes Kenma on the head, where Kenma makes a strangled noise of distress and he snorts. 

“Can I have some friends over tomorrow?” Kuroo asks, leaning his chin on a hand.

“You’re asking me like I’m your mom,” Kenma says, expression fairly blank. “I don’t care.”

“That’s exactly how my mom would reply,” Kuroo says, leaning off the back of the couch and walking into the kitchen. “I wanted to make sure. This is your apartment.”

“I mean, it’s also _your_ apartment,” Kenma points out, blinking slowly. He wipes at his eyes and sits himself up on an elbow to peer at Kuroo in the kitchen.

“That’s true,” Kuroo says thoughtfully. “You’re welcome to come hang out with us in the living room if you’d like.” Kenma gags and Kuroo laughs his ugly laugh.

“No, thank you,” Kenma says, laying back down on the couch.

“I thought you’d say that, but the offer is still out there on the table if you’d like.”

Kenma is not quite sure how he ends up squished between Kuroo and his silver-haired friend, Bokuto, on Saturday night. Bokuto’s boyfriend, Akaashi, is sitting in front of Kenma looking at him pitifully. Kenma wants to crawl back to his room and disappear, to play on his switch, but he’s already here and he’ll feel slightly bad if he abandons Kuroo, for some reason. Kuroo places a hand on top of Kenma’s head.

“I didn’t think you’d come out here,” he says, smiling. 

“I don’t even know how I got here,” Kuroo snorts and Bokuto laughs loudly, making Kenma cringe farther back. Everyone in here is far too loud for Kenma, other than Akaashi. Akaashi speaks using an indoor voice that won’t get them a noise complaint from the neighbors. 

“Bokuto,” Akaashi says, his voice soft. Bokuto’s head whips around to look at him and Akaashi puts his right hand high and then lowers it. Bokuto nods sheepishly. 

“Sorry!” he obnoxiously whispers and Kenma thinks that’s worse. 

“I’m going to get a drink,” he declares.

“Alcoholic?” Kuroo asks.

“No.” Kuroo frowns as Kenma wiggles himself out from the sides of Bokuto and Kuroo and makes his way to the kitchen. He stands in there for a minute and hears the easy chatter of the three sitting on the living room floor. He _could_ sneak his way back to his room right now, and honestly he doesn’t think Kuroo would even be mad. Instead, he takes a Diet Dr. Pepper and pops the tab as he walks back into the living room. Instead of sitting by Kuroo and Bokuto again, he decides to take a careful seat next to Akaashi. Akaashi meets Kenma’s eyes.

“Do you wanna play Smash Bros?” Kenma asks quietly. Akaashi’s eyes widen a little, but he nods. Kenma stands wordlessly this time, making his way to his room to get his switch from the mess that is his bed, and he makes his way back to the living room. He hides it in his sweatshirt pocket until he sits back down where he hands a controller to Akaashi and sets it up in a place they can both see the screen. 

“We’re playing Smash?” Kuroo asks.

“No, _we’re_ playing Smash,” he says, gesturing between Akaashi and him. Kuroo pouts and Bokuto looks like he’s holding in giggles. Kenma raises an eyebrow and looks towards Akaashi, who’s staring with narrowed eyes at Bokuto.

“Not a _word_ ,” he says. Bokuto chokes back a laugh, his eyes watering and lips trembling. Kuroo, who also looks like he’s trying to keep his laughter in, hides it by taking a bite of takeout in front of him. While Kuroo and Bokuto continue to chat, Kenma and Akaashi play a silent game of Smash. Well, mostly silent. Sometimes, Kenma will hear Akaashi curse under his breath as he falls off the platform. 

“Alright , I’m done. I suck at this game,” Akaashi says, putting the controller down. Kenma sighs and keeps the _You do_ to himself. Bokuto looks restless beside Kuroo. 

“Do you want to play?” Kenma asks. Bokuto lets out a weird huff/sigh of excitement.

“Please,” he says. Kenma shrugs and Akaashi slides the controller over to him. He sets up the switch again and they get started. Bokuto is infinitely better at Smash than Akaashi is. Where Akaashi lacked skill, Bokuto made up for at least knowing what buttons did what and which character he was best at. Was he still an easy opponent for Kenma? Yes, but everyone had been an easy opponent for Kenma. That leaves Kuroo, the roommate Kenma barely knows anything about. Kuroo doesn’t look like the type who would be good at video games, but neither does Bokuto and he put up a pretty good fight. 

Bokuto slides Kuroo the controller. They set it up to where Kuroo and Kenma are sitting beside each other, knees pressed together. The silence is deafening, the only thing that’s being heard is the violent slamming of buttons. Kuroo puts up a horrendously good fight, so much so Kenma doubts himself at certain points in the fight. In the end, Kenma remains victorious, but not without feeling nervous that he might not. His knees are bouncing in their criss crossed position, knocking against Kuroo’s.

That night changed things. 

Kenma makes himself more known around the apartment; where he was once never seen, Kuroo can now name his favorite spots in the house if he tried. Sometimes, when they’re both bored, they set up the switch and they play Smash Bros or Kuroo watches Kenma play Animal Crossing. It’s a significant change from when Kenma would have rather died than be seen outside his room. 

At one point, in a dazed three am state, Kenma decides to touch up his hair. Sure, he should have someone else do this, and he’s also not really sure _why_ he’s doing it when he said he’d let it grow back out to its natural color—but here he is in a drug store, staring at the assorted hair colors. He grabs two boxes—one for blonde and one for blue. _Why not have a little fun?_ he thinks to himself, despite the fact the entire point of this is to not draw attention to himself. Kenma arrives home at nearly three-thirty in the morning, and when he walks into the living room Kuroo is there with a baseball bat. 

“Hi,” Kenma says. Kuroo yawns, lowering the bat. 

“Thank god, it’s just you,” he says, wiping at his eyes. Kenma snorts. “Where’d you go?”

“The store,” he says, shaking the plastic bag that contains his hair dye. Kuroo hums and nods, turning back around.

“I’m gonna go back to bed,” he says. Kenma snorts and makes his way to his bedroom to change into clothes he likes less than the ones he has on. 

“You do that.” Kuroo closes his bedroom door and Kenma goes to the bathroom. Kenma thinks he’ll dye his hair blue this time. 

“Oh my god,” Kuroo says the next afternoon when he sees Kenma. 

“Holy shit,” Kenma startles, dropping his spoon in his bowl and turning to look at Kuroo.

“Your hair is blue,” Kuroo points out. “When’d that happen?”

“About four this morning,” Kenma says, picking his spoon back up. Kuroo shakes his head. “You were awake to greet me when I got home at, like, three-thirty. You thought I was a robber.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“You were half-asleep, I don’t expect you to.” Kuroo laughs and Kenma shoves the spoonful of cereal into his mouth. The little strands of hair that peek out from the bun on top of his head and frame his face, Kenma notices, almost look transparent from how light blue they are. Kenma’s never really thought about keeping up a dye job properly until now. 

“What are you looking up?” Kuroo asks him the day after. Kenma is sitting at the table, scrolling through reviews of a stupid amount of tattoo shops while Kuroo makes dinner for the two of them.

“Tattoo shops,” Kenma says. Kuroo stumbles.

“What for?” he asks. Kenma scrunches his brows together as he reads the third two star review from Jewel & Stone.

“To get a piercing,” Kenma says nonchalantly. Kuroo’s shoulders relax slightly.

“I was horrified you were going to get a tattoo,” Kuroo says. Kenma chokes on a laugh. 

“Not yet. Baby steps,” he says. He can feel Kuroo watching him from the kitchen. “Stop staring.”

“Sorry,” Kuroo says. “I’m just interested in what sparked this magnificent and wild change from the roommate I knew a month ago.”

“Hm,” Kenma hums. “The adrenaline of heartbreak.” Kuroo cackles. 

Surprisingly, when Kenma sees Shoyo at the coffee shop they used to frequent, he doesn’t do something rash. Maybe it’s not all that surprising. Kenma doesn’t really know. He’d decided to stop by the shop after class and get him and Kuroo something, since he knew Kuroo was going to get home around the same as him. He’d shot him a text and got a reply as soon as he’d entered. 

Then, he saw Shoyo. He was alone and Kenma felt the acute need to run, but he’d grounded himself and continued to walk to the counter. 

“Your hair’s blue now,” Shoyo says. “And your nose is pierced.” 

“Yeah,” Kenma says. He tries to ignore the way Shoyo sounds so surprised. 

“When’d that happen?” Shoyo asks and Kenma is painfully aware of the small talk he’s trying to make. Small talk has always made Kenma want to dig his head into a pile of bricks and Shoyo knows this.

“The hair about… a week or two? The nose piercing happened two days ago,” Kenma says. Shoyo hums, Kenma orders his coffees. They stand awkwardly for a bit until Shoyo’s order is called. 

“Well, guess I’ll see you around,” Shoyo says, a small smile on his face.

“Yeah. See you,” Kenma says. He hopes the tight lipped smile doesn’t reveal that he feels like crying a little. 

When he gets to the apartment, he places Kuroo’s coffee beside him while he does work. He drops his bag by the table and makes a beeline for his bedroom. He feels Kuroo’s eyes following him and he doesn’t even have the energy to tell him to stop staring.

He falls onto his bed and rolls himself into his blankets after pulling the hood of his sweatshirt up. He’d drank most of his iced coffee on the way here—more ice than coffee now sat in the clear cup on his bedside table. He stares at it. There’s a soft knock at his door and he makes a strangled noise to let Kuroo know he can come in. 

“You okay?” he asks from the doorway. Kenma shrugs, not like he can see it though. “You wanna talk about it?” Kenma shakes his head. Kuroo hums and Kenma hears the door click shut. 

After what feels like a few hours, Kuroo returns to Kenma’s door. This time, there’s no knocking, and he also moves to the side of the bed where he can see Kenma’s face. Kenma’s brows scrunch together angrily as he looks at Kuroo.

“You look like a cat in a cocoon. You are so not intimidating right now,” Kuroo says, a slight laugh in his voice. Kenma’s face relaxes and he feels his eyes water. “Hey.” Kuroo’s voice is all too soft for Kenma to handle right now. 

“I saw Shoyo today.” It’s all he offers and it’s all Kuroo takes. He offers him a sad smile and an open chest to sob on, and Kenma takes what he receives. Kuroo holds him for a while while he cries, then he gently pushes him off his chest. Kenma knows his eyes are red and swollen and he’s having a hard time seeing, but he lets out a shaky sigh and wipes the tears off his face.

“I made dinner,” Kuroo says. Kenma gives him a watery laugh and sniffles. Kuroo’s voice is still so dangerously soft that it makes Kenma’s stomach twist up and no, he does not have a crush on his new roommate, he thinks to himself. He cannot and he will not! That’s the final law he decides to pass in his brain and he shoves the feelings deep into some crevice of his brain that he never touches. He wipes at his face again and pulls the blanket still wrapped around his shoulders tighter. 

They eat dinner in relative silence. Kuroo talks some, Kenma hums in reply, and then they travel to the couch where Kenma powers up his switch to play Animal Crossing. For the most part, it’s not too much different from a regular night—just more quiet. And it stays quiet until they part for the night; where Kenma doesn’t sleep until after taking melatonin at two-forty-seven in the morning. 

Kenma’s eyes still feel swollen the next day. He blinks and his eyelids feel heavy, but that might also be a factor in the lack of sleep. He hates that his earliest class today is at ten in the fucking morning because all he wants to do is sleep until one in the afternoon. He thanks Kuroo for breakfast in the morning, eats, and then gets to class. When he gets back to the apartment, he feels exhausted. He flops on the couch, turning what seems to be _90 Day Fiancé_ , and before he knows it, he’s out like a light.

He wakes up with a blanket on top of him. It’s more like a quilt and Kenma has never seen it before, so he assumes it must be something from Kuroo’s room. He sits up, rubs at his eyes, and looks around the seemingly empty house. There’s no noise being uttered from anywhere, not even the TV (which Kuroo must have turned out). Kenma ventures off the couch, quilt heavy on his shoulders, peeping his head around any corner until he finds someone or decides the apartment is empty. 

The bright idea to check his phone only comes once he’s made his way around the entire apartment.

There’s only one text from Kuroo saying he’s at Bokuto and Akaashi’s apartment and that he’ll be back later. If/when he were to wake up from the couch to just fold up the quilt and lay it back on his bed. Kenma yawned, eyes watering as he read the messages. He pulls his hair into a bun and folds the quilt, padding into Kuroo’s room. He’s met with what feels like an organized storm. There are things strewn about—books in stacks in quite a few places, clothes in the hamper but also hanging out of the hamper or even on the floor, a made bed stripped of the quilt, and the desk is nearly completely free of any clutter. A few pens and notebooks lay there, but it seems to be the cleanest spot of the entire room. There are photos tacked up to the wall and a few posters, as well. It looks a little more lively than Kenma’s room, which was gutted of most pictures two days after Kuroo had moved in. 

It feels warm in Kuroo’s room, in a figurative sense. Like he’s really and truly made the place his and he can call it home, while Kenma feels like a stranger in his own bed. He puts the quilt on the bed and scurries out, feeling like he walked in on something intimate—something that he shouldn’t have seen. It makes Kenma feel icky as he pulls leftovers out of the fridge and eats in the all too quiet apartment. 

Kenma is in his room when he hears Kuroo come back home. He pops his head out the door to say goodnight to his roommate and Kuroo just blinks and yawns, but he says goodnight back. Another simple shift after those two days. Simple, unnoticeable, but there.

Kenma gets sick a week before December. He’s shivering in a blanket, a sheen of sweat on his forehead. His eyes feel heavy-lidded, but he’s sitting up on the couch and he _really_ doesn’t want to fall asleep on the couch. It makes his shoulders ache. But Kuroo finds him on the couch, slumped into his own lap fast asleep. At first, Kuroo tries to maneuver Kenma so that he’s laying down on the couch, but he wakes up halfway through that process looking like he might punch Kuroo if he doesn't stop. Kenma sneezes and then shivers. 

“You didn’t tell me you were sick,” Kuroo says.

“You didn’t hear me vomiting in the bathroom at four this morning?” Kenma asks. 

“Thankfully, I did not,” Kuroo says, patting the top of Kenma’s head. “You should get to your bed.”

“I am afraid my legs will give out.”

“They won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Fine, then, come here,” Kuroo says, sliding an arm under Kenma’s to help lift him up. 

“Oh my god. You’re gonna give me vertigo,” Kenma says leaning on Kuroo’s side. He stumbles a few steps as Kuroo practically drags him to his bedroom. Kuroo places him on his bed, slowly and gently, and Kenma is no longer filled with soul sucking dizziness. 

Kuroo comes to periodically check on him, and at one point is tasked with holding Kenma’s hair back while he throws up. He brings Kenma soup at one point, which Kenma chokes down by more willpower than anything. 

That’s how it goes the next day, too. 

“You should shower. Or, like, take a bath,” Kuroo says. And Kenma doesn’t think that’s too shabby of an idea. He’s back to walking around without the room spinning, so a bath won’t hurt to take the sweat off his body. And a new pair of clothes might be nice. 

The bath and new pair of clothes do, in fact, improve his mood just a little. He’s still stuffy and hot, but at least he doesn’t feel gross anymore. Kenma curls himself into the corner of the couch, where there’s a throw blanket over his legs. Some show Kuroo’s turned on to listen to in the background while he cooks is on and Kenma ends up drifting off before dinner is even finished. 

The most important change Kenma notices is the fact that Kuroo is much more touchy-feely than he was in the beginning. It drives Kenma a little crazy, but also being tucked into Kuroo’s side feels nice sometimes. So, the next time Akaashi and Bokuto come over, it only feels right that he sits unreasonably close to Kuroo. Their thighs are pressed together and Kuroo has his arm loosely wrapped around Kenma’s shoulders. Kuroo slips away to get something from his room, leaving Kenma with Akaashi and Bokuto. Bokuto, who’s been playing with Akaashi’s fingers for the past ten minutes, suddenly stops to look at Kenma.

“He likes you, you know that, right?” Akaashi looks mortified.

“I would hope so. He lives with me,” Kenma says. Akaashi lets out a strangled noise, yet somehow looks more relaxed than he did at the start of this conversation. Bokuto opens his mouth again, but Akaashi slaps his palm over it. Kuroo returns, Bokuto goes back to playing with Akaashi’s fingers, but Kenma doesn’t miss the way he keeps moving his legs in some way. They play a few games of Clue, they order food, and then they talk and catch up (mostly Kuroo and Bokuto), and Akaashi’s anxious moving never stops. When Bokuto quits playing with his fingers, he takes to pulling at them himself. It’s making Kenma anxious to the point his hands begin to shake a little.

After Akaashi and Bokuto leave, Kenma and Kuroo stay seated in the living room for a bit. Kenma is a little relieved. 

“I have a scar on the back of my head,” Kenma says softly. Kuroo raises his eyebrows.

“How’d you get it?”

“When I was seven, I fell on the corner of a table and busted my head open,” he says. His hands raise to trace the scar. Kuroo’s fingers twitch. “You can touch it.”

As he guides Kuroo’s hand to trace the scar, he thinks there’s something distinctly freeing about Kuroo knowing about the scar. 

Sometimes, if Kuroo is close enough, he’ll gently lift his hand under Kenma’s hair to feel the scar. It confuses Kenma at first, but it becomes something he gets used to. Sometimes Kenma will be standing beside Kuroo while he cooks and he’ll lift his hand to gently touch the scarred spot on Kenma’s head. The heavy hand makes Kenma shiver. The more Kuroo seems to touch him—arm around his shoulders, hand on the small of Kenma’s back—the more Kenma finds himself leaning into the touch. 

Kenma is pushed into Kuroo’s side while he plays his switch and Kuroo studies for a final. When Kenma’s neck begins to hurt, he rolls it and looks up at Kuroo. Kuroo, who is so invested in the book he’s studying that there’s a slight glint in his eye. Then Kenma notices how long his eyelashes are, the fact that Kuroo is _pretty_ , and he feels his stomach lurch. He thinks it’s too early to be able to move on from Shoyo, despite the fiery ball of energy having not been in his mind since they met at the coffee shop. And he thinks about the fact Shoyo has most definitely already moved on from Kenma, because it’s easy to move on from Kenma, but hard to move on from Shoyo.

Kenma lets out a shaky breath. That catches Kuroo’s attention. 

“You okay?” he murmurs. And it seems like most of their conversations have consisted of Kuroo asking if Kenma is okay or not. Kenma thinks if he were to tell Kuroo how _replaceable_ he feels, right now and always, Kuroo might stop studying to go on a long lecture about how Kenma is not that. Kenma decides to keep his mouth clamped shut on that thought.

“Yeah,” he says. Kuroo looks at him out of the corner of the eye and Kenma quickly turns his focus back to his switch. 

And they’re back to square one. Kenma is walking on eggshells in his own apartment. 

Kuroo can’t seem to place why Kenma is back to retreating, he can tell every time he meets Kuroo’s eyes and stares for a little too long. Kuroo’s back to having to approach Kenma, back to having to initiate everything, and having Kenma respond with a lack of enthusiasm. 

“Talk,” Kuroo says, mouth full of food one night during dinner. Kenma blinks in shock. “I know there’s something wrong. Talk.” 

“Uh,” Kenma starts. “Nothing.”

“Swear to god,” Kuroo starts, putting his fork down. “You’re the same way you were when I first moved in. Scarily quiet and observant and you’ll barely talk to me.” Kenma pulls at his sweatpants. 

“I mean… I dunno. Just… personal, okay?” Kenma says, keeping his expression blank. Or as blank as possible. Kuroo’s mouth falls into a thin line. 

“Sure. Yeah. I’ll let it go,” Kuroo says. It sounds passive aggressive, but Kenma lets it go. They eat in silence, the only noise being the clink of silverware against plates. The next morning, Kenma books an appointment at the tattoo shop he got his nose done at. 

The ear piercings are harder to notice, but, of course, Kuroo notices. Kenma thinks his first mistake is having his hair up, but his hair had been getting caught on the backs and he was tired of tugging and pulling his ears. 

“You got your ears pierced?” Kuroo asks, taking a tentative step towards Kenma. Kenma freezes for a minute and then relaxes, feeling his shoulders sink. 

“Mhm,” he hums. Kuroo is dangerously close to his face. He watches Kuroo’s eyes flicker to his lips. Where Kenma desperately just wants to close his eyes and let Kuroo kiss him. Instead he clears his throat, blinks, and pushes away. Kuroo scrambles back slightly and rocks on the balls of his heels.

“I’m gonna. I’m gonna go shower,” Kuroo says, sentences clipped and rushed. If he were saying more words, Kenma thinks he might trip over them. He blushes. 

Limbo.

Kenma fucking hates limbo. It’s stupid. Not the _game_ limbo; he’s talking about this weird limbo Kuroo and him have entered. It’s driving him insane. They’re careful around each other, like if they say one wrong thing the other may break. Kenma’s concerns are Kuroo moving out, and Kuroo’s concerns are… obscured. Kuroo is treating Kenma like glass, holding him carefully in his arms like he will break if he lets go. 

They eat in silence, Kenma has taken back to hiding in his room, and Kuroo tries to avoid Kenma when he can. It’s starting to eat Kenma alive and he’s taking to bouncing his leg when they eat together. 

“Oh, my god, if you keep treating me like I’m fucking fragile? I’m gonna go insane,” Kenma snaps at the table. He’s dropped his fork and his hands are laid in his lap. He starts to pull at his fingers, picking at the skin around his nails, so they won’t start shaking. 

Kuroo clears his throat. “Sorry.”

“Kuro.” Kenma watches Kuroo startle at the nickname. “We have to stop tip-toeing around each other.”

“I just… don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Dancing around me is making me more uncomfortable than anything. You’ve retracted from yourself,” Kenma says. “I don’t know this you.” Kuroo moves his food with his fork. 

The rest of the dinner is silent.

Limbo seems to end after that. They talk more and the silence that once enveloped the apartment has ended. It’s nice, Kenma thinks. It’s _nice_ because now Kenma feels like something isn’t wrong, like his emotions aren’t exploding inside of him whenever he sees Kuroo. When Kuroo finally gets back to mindlessly touching his scar, he shivers and feels his insides go into a frenzy. His throat goes dry and closes up, his face goes red, and Kuroo doesn’t seem to notice or doesn’t say anything. 

“This is weird,” Kenma says as he and Kuroo sit in front of each other on the couch. They’re staring at each other, and Kenma is not quite sure how they got here.

“I agree,” Kuroo says.

“Then why are we still doing it?” 

“I dunno.” They don’t stop staring at each other. Kenma scoots closer. His knees knock against Kuroo’s and he watches Kuroo’s Adam's apple bob as he swallows. Kenma blinks, feels his throat go dry, and his eyes flicker to Kuroo’s lips. When they meet Kuroo’s again, he watches Kuroo’s eyes flicker to his lips. 

“I really wanna kiss you right now,” Kuroo says. 

“Please do,” Kenma says. Kuroo surges forward, his hand gently cupping Kenma’s jaw. It’s messy and Kuroo’s lips are a bit chapped, to Kenma’s dismay, but his probably aren’t any better. Kenma continues to pull himself closer to Kuroo until he’s practically in Kuroo’s lap. His hands rest on the side of Kuroo’s neck, where he rubs his thumbs up and down. They pull apart and Kuroo gently rubs his nose against Kenma’s, resting their foreheads together. Kenma keeps his eyes closed before blinking them open slowly. He gives a soft laugh. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that. For so long,” Kuroo says, breathless. Kenma laughs softly, going back in to kiss Kuroo. The euphoria filling his body makes him feel light, like he’s on cloud nine. And Kenma feels _happy_ , feels something soft and gentle curl up in his stomach and settle there. He laughs more, a real and true smile gracing his face, and he moves his hands to settle on Kuroo’s jaw as he laughs. 

“What’s so funny?” Kuroo smiles.

“I’m just… I’m so happy,” Kenma says. Kuroo moves to press a kiss to the side of Kenma’s jaw. Kenma hums in content. 

The next morning, when Kuroo is making breakfast, Kenma buries his face in Kuroo’s back. 

“Good morning,” he says, his voice so soft and tender that Kenma feels his chest seize for a moment. He hums into Kuroo’s back, nuzzling his face deeper into Kuroo’s t-shirt. He smells like pine. Kuroo continues cooking, easily moving with Kenma latched onto him. “Breakfast is done.”

“Breakfast is done.” Kenma hums into Kuroo’s back again. Kuroo twists to where Kenma’s face is now in his chest. He pulls Kenma off his chest and holds his face in his hands. He presses a gentle kiss to Kenma’s lips. When they pull apart, Kenma chases his lips.

“Let’s eat, first,” Kuroo says, tapping Kenma’s nose. Kenma grounds, but lets his arms fall to his side and drags himself to the table. The light chatter during breakfast makes Kenma feel airy, like he can do anything. 

Kenma once again meets Shoyo in the coffee shop. 

Kuroo has his arm loosely wrapped around Kenma’s shoulders, and when he spots Shoyo he doesn’t have a sense of dread stumble into his stomach. He feels fine. His hair is a fresh shade of blue (he’d convinced Kuroo to help him at one in the morning, breaking him away from writing an essay he wasn’t really writing) and there’s a small smile gracing his face. When Shoyo catches his eye, he waves with a bright smile on his face. Kenma lifts a hand and notices the boy standing beside Shoyo. 

“Hey!” Shoyo says to Kenma while Kuroo orders their drinks.

“Hey,” Kenma says. “How’ve you been?” 

“Good!” Shoyo says, and it feels natural and nice. It’s not rocky, it’s not a tender wound anymore. Every time he talks to Shoyo, it doesn’t feel like he’s pouring salt into the gaping wound on his heart. Kenma thinks that’s because he’s healed. “How’ve you been?”

“Pretty good,” Kenma says. Kuroo sneaks behind him, grabbing at his waist and Kenma yelps in alarm. “You’re a bitch!” Kenma says, slapping at Kuroo’s arms lightly and twisting to look at him.

“Yeah, but you love me,” he says, smiling as he dips down to give Kenma a peck on the lips. “hey, Shoyo!” 

“I see you two are getting along quite well,” Shoyo giggles. Kenma blushes and averts his eyes. “This is my boyfriend, Kageyama.”

“Nice to meet you,” Kenma says. Kuroo hums his greeting. Kageyama blinks in surprise at the mention of his name.

“You too,” he says. Neither of them stick their hands out. Shoyo and Kageyama’s orders are called. 

“Well, I’ll see you around. For real this time, okay?” Shoyo says. “I mean it!” 

Kenma laughs. “Yeah, I’ll see you around.”

“Oh, and Kenma?” Shoyo says, turning around and stopping. “I really hope you're happy.”

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on [twitter](twitter.com/wIwilbur) and [tumblr](https://bloodyknuckles.tumblr.com) !


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